


Enigma

by Killerrach



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alcohol, Author projects onto characters and calls it therapy, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Sokka loves him, hes soul searching your honor, idk how to tag this, zuko is Going Through It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26335426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killerrach/pseuds/Killerrach
Summary: The thing is, Zuko is an enigma.He’s a walking contradiction; he always has been.The war inside him may have been fought, the battles won, but the smoldering ruins from the heavy blasts still linger hot and heavy in his chest.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 132





	Enigma

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of working on chapter two of something else so, sorry if any of you are reading AFFN, I’ll get there eventually.

And maybe Sokka is a bit of an enigma. 

Maybe Zuko is just projecting.

But Sokka likes meat. Anybody who spends five minutes with him knows this. Any kind of meat, nothing fancy, just meat.

Sokka likes simple things.

Sokka also likes gourmet international cuisine and he knows a lot about it. Zuko has to hold his breath the first time he takes Sokka to the markets. He talks about the different flavors he’s had around the world, how this stew reminds him of a dish he once had on Kyoshi island. How these berries remind him of some mystical swamp.

His energy is electrifying.

Sokka likes both, and Zuko can’t figure out how he has all that room inside him.

* * *

Sokka dates Suki for three years. They end things amicably and continue to stay friends.

He mourns though, and Zuko watches helplessly as Sokka throws himself at whatever date he can get, and he gets _a lot_.

Men, women. Neither, both.

Sokka doesn’t care, doesn’t even blink. 

Nothing ever comes of his dates. He always trudges back into Zuko’s chambers and steamrolls into a half-assed explanation of why that particular person isn’t “the right fish for me.”

Sokka isn’t picky, but he is.

Zuko wishes he had picked him.

* * *

Sokka can’t decide between a blue belt and a red one. The blue one matches his Water Tribe robes a little better, but the red one compliments them a little nicer.

But when he asks him his opinion, Zuko tells him they both look nice. He turns back to the mirror, holding them both up with a scrunched look of concentration, his tongue poking out of his mouth. Zuko smiles gently into his palm before turning his head.

The thing is, it’s just a belt. A red one or a blue one. It’s not that big of a deal.

It is a big deal. It’s a big deal because if Sokka shows up at the annual Ambassador dinner wearing a red belt on top of his already Fire Nation-ified tunic, the potential message he could send would raise some eyebrows at best and some voices at worst. 

Zuko wants him to choose the red one.

“Choose the blue one,” is what he says.

Sokka lifts the blue one up. Sniffs it. Puts it back down. He looks at the red. 

“I...I’m already wearing a lot of blue. I think the red one will be a nice touch.” He looks straight at Zuko. Zuko looks back.

“I like the red one,” Zuko says quietly. “But I think the blue is more you.”

Sokka smiles widely. Turns back to the mirror, and gently puts the blue belt on the bed. “I like red too,” he says, and Zuko pretends to miss the soft edges of his voice. Pretends to not feel the tips of his ears burn. Pretends that he doesn’t hear the words Sokka isn’t saying.

He ties the red belt on and does a dramatic twirl. It looks right. It looks wrong. Zuko looks away. 

Sokka must be smiling though. He always is.

Zuko doesn’t see him put on the other belt, right on top of the red one so that they’re tied and twisted together in a delicate but strong knot.

“Ta-da!” Sokka says as Zuko looks up.

Zuko snorts. It looks ridiculous. It looks amazing.

He realizes he loves Sokka.

Sokka marches him out of the room quickly, his mouth running a thousand miles a minute, and Zuko isn’t allowed to dwell on the L word for another moment.

But he tucks it away. He hides it deep.

Sokka is wearing both belts and getting strange looks and welcoming them with a pride Zuko had never known.

 _An enigma_ , Zuko thinks, as he wonders how Sokka can possibly find it in his heart to love his people _and_ Zuko’s. 

But Sokka does. Day and day over and over. Zuko thinks he would like to try to do that, too. 

And if at the next annual ambassador dinner, more people show up wearing multicolored belts twisted together, well Zuko will just smile, and maybe even wear his own. 

* * *

Sokka tastes like wine and sea prunes.

Zuko knows this because he kisses him after everybody has left the palace. After the other ambassadors have turned in for the night and Aang has flown off on Appa with Katara and Toph. 

After they giggle their way through another bottle of wine as they walk the perimeter of the gardens.

Sokka smiles and he’s drunk and he’s happy and there’s a fondness in his eyes that Zuko’s drunk addled brain mistakes for sadness. Zuko doesn’t think he can handle it if Sokka is sad. He can’t figure out why Sokka would be sad.

He kisses him.

It’s soft. It’s sloppy. It’s electrifying and grounding. _It’s an enigma,_ he thinks faintly, drunkenly, before he pulls away.

Sokka is looking at him. He’s looking at him with surprise and fondness and something so, so beautiful.

Zuko chokes on his own breath, feels the heat of his own skin, mumbles something unintelligible and flees the gardens as fast as he possibly can. 

Sokka calls after him but he doesn’t follow. Zuko runs. Sokka calls.

He sounds sad. 

* * *

The thing is, Zuko is an enigma. 

He’s a walking contradiction; he always has been. 

The war inside him may have been fought, the battles won, but the smoldering ruins from the heavy blasts still linger hot and heavy in his chest.

Zuko doesn’t understand how he can hate so deeply and love even deeper.

How he will stand tall with pride and still bend his head in humility.

How he is patient and compassionate. Angry and impulsive.

How can you be both?

_How can I be both?_

* * *

Sokka finds him, he always does. 

He sits softly on the grass and listens as Zuko cries and talks and tells him everything; how he doesn’t know who he is. How he knows exactly who he is. How he doesn’t know how he can possibly feel both.

Sokka takes his hand. He doesn’t ask why Zuko ran off; he doesn’t have to. He knows Zuko had been scared of himself. 

“ _You_ don’t scare me,” Zuko whispers into Sokka’s hair and Sokka chuckles against his cheek.

“I know, Zuko.”

He holds him and lets him feel and tells him that it’s only human.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko whispers and buries himself deeper into Sokka's neck.

“I know, Zuko.”

 _I love you_ , he doesn’t say.

He wonders if Sokka knows that, too. 

* * *

Sokka does know.

He tries to tell Zuko with his eyes. With the way his hand curls around Zuko’s shoulders. How he holds him close.

He tells Zuko that “your heart is bigger than you give it credit for. You’re capable of feeling more than you let yourself.”

Sokka knows Zuko doesn’t believe him, but that’s okay. Zuko is soul searching and growing into himself, and Sokka understands that only too well.

Zuko is trying to pick up whatever shattered pieces of his old life still remain and fit them back into a puzzle made of glass, hoping he won’t cut his fingers on the edges. 

_It can’t be easy_ , Sokka thinks. Trying to run a nation in your early twenties. Trying to be a world leader and somehow still lead yourself.

He tells Zuko to be patient with himself. To be kind and gentle, and when Zuko rolls his eyes, Sokka tells him that if he doesn’t, he’ll beat him up.

Zuko laughs and kisses him again. He looks surprised at himself but more sure this time. He asks if it’s okay.

Sokka thinks they have been hurtling towards this for years. A supernova waiting to explode, however cliche that may be.  
  
Nobody has ever held a candle to Zuko’s flame. He wishes it hadn’t taken him so long to see it.

Zuko asks him if it’s okay.

Sokka says yes.

Of course it is.

* * *

Zuko thinks that maybe Sokka isn’t so much an enigma as he is a star. Burning hot and wild, complex in its simplicity, bright enough for all to see.

Or maybe Sokka is just as human as Zuko.

**Author's Note:**

> Just another fic where I project onto both Zuko and Sokka. Leave a comment/kudos to let me know what you thought and feel free to yell at me on tumblr @killerrach! 
> 
> Thanks for reading,  
> Rach


End file.
